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She nodded. “He’s four. He’s with his dad tonight, so I thought I’d catch up on a few things.”
“I’m sorry, I should have known you had a child.” I ran a hand over my beard. “I’ve been a little self-absorbed lately. Or maybe always.”
“With good reason,” she said, her voice full of understanding. “Did you have dinner? I can order something before I go.”
I shook my head. “Not yet.” As I thought about it, I realized I was starving.
Pamela followed me into my office with a fistful of menus. I sorted through them and held up a sushi menu. “My treat. Stay and have dinner.” I didn’t know why I asked. I had come back to the office to be alone, but her quiet, stable presence was welcome and kind of a comfort.
She cocked her head to one side as if listening to a voice I couldn’t hear and then said, “Okay, I will. But only because you chose sushi. If you’d picked southern barbecue, I’d be outta here.” A playful grin flitted across her features.
We ordered, each working silently until Sal downstairs rang up to let us know our food had arrived. We set up dinner over the table in my office and for the first time, I sat down with Pamela and found myself in very pleasant company.
“What’s yourson’s name?” I asked.
“Kenner,” she said, looking slightly embarrassed. “His father is a preppy.”
“And you and his dad are . . . ?”
“Both living our own lives, but sharing parenting responsibilities.”
I nodded, thinking about that. “Is it hard?” I asked.
Pamela wrinkled her forehead at me as she ate a bite of salmon. When her mouth wasn’t full she said, “What? Parenting in general is hard as hell. Seriously, I’ve never felt so outgunned, outsmarted, or undone as I have been by the little man who lives with me. He’s a deviant genius in a tiny body.”
The laugh that escaped me was rueful. Would Holland’s child be a deviant genius? “He sounds fun, actually.”
She shook her head. “Sometimes it’s fun, but the stakes are so high, sometimes it just feels impossible.”
I thought about that for a minute. “You’re not alone, though,” I said. “Kenner’s dad helps?”
She nodded and then put down her chopsticks, giving me a frank look. “Do you want to talk about things, Oliver?”
“What?”
“The questions. It feels like you’re trying to solve a mystery here.” She seemed to be thinking about something, and then said, “Do you want to talk about Holland?”
I couldn’t help staring. Was she fucking clairvoyant? “What?”
She shrugged and leaned back in her chair. “I know you think you’re very sly, but everyone on this floorknows you’ve been seeing Ms. O’Dell.”
“Did she . . . ?”
“I doubt she’s actually said a word to anyone but me. But she needed a friend.” She shook her head slowly and picked her chopsticks up again. “But even if Holland and I weren’t friends . . . you’ve been calm and happy since you’ve come back—for the most part, at least. And Holland O’Dell has been around a fair amount, and her name comes up.”
“That’s because of her involvement in the MLB deal,” I pointed out, covering, though I couldn’t have explained why. I wanted to talk to someone about Holland. Maybe this was an opportunity. I sighed. “But you’re not wrong. I guess you already know that, though. Holland and I are involved. That is, we were.”
“And . . .”
“It’s just . . . it’s complicated.”
“Because she’s pregnant?” Pamela asked around a ball of rice.
I squinted at her, unsure how much to say. I was surprised Holland had confided so much. It hurt my heart to think of my duchess needing a friend, but I was glad she’d found one. It would be a relief to have someone to talk to. I dropped Pamela’s gaze. “But I don’t think the baby’s mine.”
Her face remained expressionless. She wasn’t giving it away if she knew the truth. “There are ways to find out for sure, you know.”
I stared at her, trying to decide how much to tell her about my thoughts, my suspicions. If she was friends with Holland, maybe this wasn’t the best idea. But I had no one else to talk to, not really. I decided to go all in. “I know. I’mnot sure what to do.” I told her the story about going to Holland’s, about finding the brochure, accusing Holland of lying to me.
